


Still Far to Go

by cmorgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Whump, Emotional Healing, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Healing, Jack is a good god, M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Post-Canon Fix-It, The Empty (Supernatural), canonically dead characters, dead characters come back, more or less, no one is left behind or forgotten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmorgana/pseuds/cmorgana
Summary: Fix-it fic starting from the pie festival in 15x20Basically....Ohana means family and family means no one is left behind or forgotten. Too many characters were discarded or forgotten with the canon ending and I decided to fix that.Dean is finally happy, he is free, life is good. Except he isn't and he can't be, not knowing Castiel is in the Empty, probably suffering, and that he never said those three words back. There's only a solution, the Winchester's solution: bring back the dead. What's better than a few of their favorite women to help them?In the meantime Castiel, tortured by the shadow in the Empty, breaks down a little more every day, calling and begging anyone he had ever loved for help, could it even be useful?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyara/gifts).



> To write this fic I obviously had to take decisions and make choices, given how many questions the show left us with. I won't consider the "yo a ti" (I started the fic before it came out, but I still think it's better without it), but I never explicitly say that he never said it, so you can keep it as your canon, I'll only say that he never said "I love you".  
> I didn't like how they ended the Chuck storyline, but it would have been something too huge and complicate to change, so I kept it like it is and the beginning of 15x20 too, with domestic Sam and Dean. I have no idea if the dog has a name, so I gave him one, but if he has one I didn't catch please let me know.  
> Eileen is the character that gave me more problems deciding what to do with her, in the end I chose what I'd like more as a woman. It's my personal choice, I hope you won't hate it too much.
> 
> There will be sex, oh, sure, as soon as Castiel will be saved and as good as new, there will be a ton of sex, but given the scene isn't written yet, I don't know if it will need specific tags. 
> 
> Basically: keep an eye on the tags, I'll add some while going. The fic won't go darker than the canon darkness we're used too (I don't think I could torture Dean more than they did in these past 15 years even if I wanted and we're pretty used to physical and mental torture too)  
> Please keep an eye on notes for the cingle chapters. 
> 
> Comments are love, constructive criticisms too, ideas are welcome. Instead I'll report any fight over the ending, fights in general and insults to me or any other commenter.

It was a beautiful day, the sky over Ohio clear, the air just the right side of chilly. There were birds chirping and kids laughing, a relaxed chit chat coming from the small crowd. 

It was the first time since… well, probably since forever, that Dean felt well rested and his shoulders didn't hurt with tension. Even life with far less alcohol and cholesterol was bearable and the eternal lines on Sam's forehead had almost disappeared. 

Dean looked down at the huge tray filled with every kind of pie he could imagine and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

"I can't do this, Sammy," he said, flinching internally. He felt like a monster just by saying the words out loud. He felt like the worst brother ever. It was wrong, a world of wrong. A damn universe of wrong, but he had promised Sam that now that they really had free will, there were going to be no more lies and he was far readier to break Sam's happy bubble rather than a promise, at this point. 

"What, eat that pie? I'm almost sure no human being could, not in one go, at least," Sam smiled around his own mouthful. 

"No, not that, I can totally eat these pies. I can't be happy, Sam. I tried and this new life feels great and it's what I've always wanted, what mom had always dreamt for us. I have a dog, a home, nothing to keep me up at night, no fear that you or I are gonna die tomorrow…"

"But it's all a lie unless you can have Cas," Sam finished for him with a smile. It was the most tender smile Dean had seen in a long while. 

"I...can you smell this, Sam?" He asked as a reply. Sam focused for a second but then shook his head, "sweet cinnamon and every time a kid runs by the scent of clothes hung to dry under the sun. It's the scent of home, Sam. It's Cas' scent and I'm not sure I can go on without smelling it again. Without telling him…" he stopped. He had never said those three words out loud and he wasn't going to unless it was in front of his angel.

"I miss him terribly too. Without him feels like just half a win," Sam nodded again, "but I was waiting for you to get there, at this point it's something between the two of you before being a family thing," he affectionately bumps their shoulders together, still smiling, "didn't know Angels have a scent," Sam teased.

"They don't, he does. Like the best dessert ever, eaten on a sunny Sunday. With a hint of gun oil and a note of Impala," Dean bit to the tease, getting a laugh out of Sam. 

"Come on, Shakespeare, let's hit the books and check what the lore says about the Empty before you start writing folk ballads," Sam concluded, stealing another forkful of apple pie.

* * *

In the dark room, Dean turned into bed for the hundredth time that night, groggily looking at the alarm that informed him it was just past 3 am. Apparently, that was one of the lows of being well rested: once you're not too exhausted to even think, your brain takes over and you lose every chance at sleeping again. Maybe it was good. Maybe it meant in a few days he was going back to be dead on his feet and back at passing out for four hours straight the moment he touched the bed. The problem, though, was how to make it to the next few days, because Dean was sure he couldn't take that for long. 

The pain. The emptiness. His brain going in circles.

He had lost everything in life, he had dealt with loss since he was 4, lost his dad, watched friends die, even his brother a few times, seen Bobby pass in front of him, lost his mother for the second time… so why didn't he know how to deal with this one loss? It even wasn't like he had always spent every minute with Cas, their time together always too spare and little, so he was more used to Castiel's absence than his presence. Not to mention he had already lost Castiel in the past. Sure he couldn't miss him in a situation like this one, in the middle of the night. 

Except Dean knew he had always assumed Cas was going to always be there, he was used to having him a prayer - or a phone call - away. 

Castiel had died a few times already, but now was different, now Dean missed him so much he couldn't breathe, everything seemed to bring along a memory of the Angel. Of them together. The three of them, having a home, raising a kid. Being a family. Now they had been too close to be happy. Funny that the happiness they had missed their whole lives was exactly what killed Castiel. 

Regrets were something Dean based his life over, he had more of those than happy memories, but now it felt like they were all related to Castiel, to how he's been a shitty friend. All the times he had let Castiel down or pushed him away. All the times he hadn't really appreciated his help. Those damn days after Jack had died and he had turned all his pain and anger toward an even more hurt Castiel. He had told him he was dead to him, but it had never been true, not for a moment he had stopped loving him and he definitely hadn’t known the meaning of that word at this point of their relationship, just now he knew what Cas being dead meant, and it hurt more than he could take. 

Dean sat up, turning on the bedside lamp with a sigh. The air was chilly on his naked arms and the covers heavy on his lap.

Who was he kidding? He had one regret, keeping him awake as much of the pain: he didn't answer to those three words.

"Cas? Maybe things changed and you can hear me from where you are?" He whispered to the empty room, "I...I miss you, man. I thought I could do it, be happy, live a free life, what you gave your life for me to have, all of it, but I can't. It's just a play, Cas, I’m just going through the motions of how things are supposed to be now. A dog, clean clothes, healthy food," Dean rubbed a hand on his face, "damnit Cas! How could you die on me like that? How can you leave me with no one listening to my prayers, without my best friend, without the one…" he stopped, eyes burning with the beginning of tears, just one already sliding on his cheek, "I can barely remember your scent, Cas, it's like it's fading from my memory a little more every day and I can't go on without your scent. Cas I can't live with the idea of you fading in my head," his hands were shaking as much as his voice, his chest hurt.

He had never known fair deaths, even less with the kind of life he led, but this one, Cas' he couldn't accept. He died because he was happy for a moment. The only moment of happiness in a creation-long existence. Cas died because he was so happy to love him that he didn't even need to hear it back. 

"Fuck you, you fucking winged bastard!" Dean yelled at the wall, "you asshole! You had no right to make suicidal deals! You had no right to make them assuming things! You have to come back, Castiel, because I need to tear you a new one! Do you hear me, idiot? You decided for me, for my existence! You had no right to offer my happiness too!" He kept screaming, angry, but then he just hid his face in his hands, "please Cas, hear my prayers," he begged between sobs.

Dean didn't even hear the door opening, his hunter senses lowered by the pain or maybe too relaxed those days, but he automatically scooted over when he felt the weight on the mattress near him and, a second later, the far less familiar weight of a dog jumping on his legs.

"We’ll bring him back, I promise nothing will stop me from seeing you happy after everything we went through," Sam whispered while arranging his too long limbs to fit on the small bed. 

Dean leaned against him, one hand fisting his pyjamas. For most of their lives, the roles had been reversed, but Dean could remember a few nights like this when it had been his little brother who had consoled him and not the other way around. The first time Dean had been maybe ten and had been sure John had left because he had thrown a childish tantrum about something and that he was going to die on the hunt because he had been a bad son. Little Sammy had spent the night holding him and repeating that every parent would have wanted a son like him. Dean had thought that maybe every parent would have wanted him, but surely not their father, but had said nothing to Sammy.

"Please, bring our Cas back," he cried in the end, face pressed against Sam's shoulder and hand fisted in Jimmy's fur.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel in this chapter so, as you can imagine, he's not having a good time. 
> 
> This chapter contains physical and mental TORTURE, you're warned. Though, it's the kind we usually see in the show, actually tamer than some of the things we canonically saw Castiel endure (I'll be more evil later, but I like to start soft)

Thin tendrils of black goo were twisted around his calves and wrists. Soft, and slimy, and cold but still more resistant than anything he had ever felt. Castiel struggled once more against them, but still, his arms couldn’t move at all from their spread position. They were starting to hurt, he had been standing, tied up spread-eagled for hours, or maybe days, he had no idea, there was no time in the Empty, there was nothing, but his muscles were finally shaking and burning and his resolution of someway escape was starting to fade. 

There wasn’t a way out, there had never been. He had been released from there once, and it had costed the lives of some of his brothers, not to mention the power of Lucifer’s son, but this time it was different. This time he was there by choice, he was there because of a deal because the Entity ruling that place wanted him, not because he had just died. They were all things that pointed toward never getting out. He had known that, when he had closed the deal when he had told those three words to Dean to save him, and he didn’t regret any of that, still now it felt a lot worse than he had imagined, a lot scarier. Darker. Hopeless.

Castiel screamed. 

Anger, frustration, pain, but also love and loss in that inhuman yell resonating through the nothingness surrounding him.

* * *

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel flinched, a wave of nausea similar to a punch in the stomach. He knew that voice, he knew it better than his own, his world, his whole being had depended on that voice. 

He was shaking so much that even to open his eyes felt like too much, but he slowly did. Around him just black. No shadow, no dark, those had a form, an existence, there, instead, there was just a black nothing. But that voice behind him was there, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating, he knew it was what had woken him from his tortured blackout. 

They had made it because there was nothing a Winchester couldn’t do, they had found a way, fought for him. 

He tried to talk, but his mouth was dry, his lips chapped and almost glued together. 

“Dean?” he managed after a few tries, hope clear and loud in his voice. He had no idea how long he had spent there, but Castiel already was at his limit, already slowly losing his mind and now that, now Dean had arrived just close to him also losing his hope.

“You think? Sure, Cas,” the voice was now closer, but too sweet, honey-coated. Castiel closed his eyes and nodded, lips in a tight line. 

Right. 

He was an idiot. It couldn’t have been Dean, he should have known, he should have stomped on that last tendril of hope long before. He was alone and damned, forever, and, apparently, the Entity just decided it was time to play with him.

“I thought you might enjoy a familiar form and honestly, for human standards that’s a pretty hot one, but you already know it, right?” Slowly the creature walked in front of him, touching his bound and hurt, arm in the passing, and stopped a few steps away from his face, head slightly tilted, “what do you think, good enough?” it asked in an amused tone. 

Castiel didn’t look up, he couldn’t do that, he wasn’t ready, he knew it was going too close to losing his mind. 

“That’s what you want? to torture me forever because I woke you?” he asked back, instead, but the Entity slightly twisted its hand and suddenly Castiel felt like all his organs were being squeezed inside him. With a grunt of pain, he tried to curl up on himself, but the black tendrils tightened around his limbs, bruising and cutting even through his clothes. 

“When I ask you something, you answer, clear?” the human form asked, twisting his hand more until Castiel desperately nodded, and just then it let go. 

Castiel couldn’t raise his head, panting in still lingering pain, eyes scrunched shut. 

“So, we were saying: do you enjoy this shape, Castiel?” with all the little energies still in him the angel looked up, hate and fury in his eyes, the red rage he had used in the worst celestial battles. 

“Do you think it matters, that you look like him? I know what you are,” he said in a hiss. 

The Entity laughed, but it had nothing to do with Dean’s laughter, not even his sarcastic, cruel one, and that gave Cas a second to take back control over his thoughts. He had no idea how much of them the Empty could read, but he wasn’t going to show his desperation. 

“Sure, you know now, but what in a century or two? But it’s true love, let's say a few millennia, instead. You’ll be out of your mind, your small Grace rotten with desperation and pain, and then you won’t know I’m not him, you’ll only remember you gave everything for Dean, for something stupid you call love, but the only thing you’ll know will be that he’s torturing you. How does it sound?”

“Worth it!” Castiel spit back, “that thing you call stupid, will have to make it worth it, even after millennia of torture!” 

In silence the creature took a few steps forward and grabbed his chin, forcing Castiel to look in its eyes. 

They were Dean’s eyes, Dean’s calluses on the fingers, but there was nothing behind them. There wasn’t Dean. Looking at it like that, it was easier to see it was just an illusion. There wasn’t even Dean’s smell. 

“Worth it? To be here, in pain, your Grace faded into nothing but a grey shade, is that worth it? For a human? You don’t even know for how long you’ve been here, maybe more than a lifetime, maybe he’s already dead”

“Do you think I care?” Castiel scoffed, shaking his head, “I’ve always known he’s going to die, he’s a mortal, what I cared about was to save him at that point, to allow him to live and finish what we had started. You got that I was happy, but you really didn’t get how or why,” his eyes were now almost closed, but there were amusement and curiosity on its face. 

The entity took a step back. 

“What makes you think that he won, that he didn’t die a second later?” 

Castiel made a show of looking around, tried to shrug, but all he obtained was for his shoulder to scream in pain. 

“I’m sure there would be a bigger mess here. All those demons, the remaining Angels…”

“Maybe I expanded, maybe I finally swallowed everything your Father stole from me!” it still was a teasing tone, but Castiel could detect anger too. It was well hidden and subtle, but it was there, it was a weak point and he could maybe use that. 

“My Father? God stole from you?” 

“Why do you think you angels end up here, tortured by regrets and nothingness? Your useless Father wanted creation, wanted existence and things. He didn’t like the emptiness, the nothing, so we got a deal, a little space to do anything he wanted and in exchange, I’d get to play with his children once they were dead. Demons were a freebie I got later,” it added as an afterthought. 

For a moment Castiel’s mind blanked out. It couldn’t be true. He knew now that God wasn’t the benevolent, wise Father he had blindly followed for aeons, he knew he was selfish and spoiled and often cruel, but that seemed like too much. To condemn his angels, his children, like that, just to treat himself with creations to play with. Stories to write, humans created just to use them like in a bad novel, and then wiped out to start anew, in exchange for the eternal suffering of him and his brothers. 

His insides felt worse than when the Empty was playing with them, a pain in his chest similar to someone ripping out his heart and lungs. 

“Oh, the poor kid had no idea!” the entity teased with a maniacal laugh. It shoved him slightly, his shoulders almost popped out of place, but Castiel was even unable to feel pain at that moment, “Your Father created you just to have something to play with, sold you and left you when he found something more interesting to play with. It took you so long to realize, you brave, faithful soldier. Luckily Dean Winchester came along to save you from your blindness, it’s a pity he did with you exactly what your father had.”

“Dean didn’t use and discard me. The Winchester gave me a family, love,” Castiel said angrily, eyes closed into a slit.

“Did they? Do you really believe you meant something to them? no one but them meant something to the Winchester, Castiel. They roamed the Earth breaking hearts and leaving people behind, you were just another they used, you just lasted longer because of your nice angel powers. Ohhh, but maybe you expected something different, maybe you thought Dean was going to say those three words back?” the cruel voice turned into a fake sweetness at the end, a teasing empathy that was incredibly wrong on Dean’s lips, which was perfect to Cas, perfect to remember that wasn’t Dean. Not that the doubt had ever crossed his mind. 

“Do you think that’s why I saved him, why I confessed to him? To hear him say it back?” Castiel laughed, and the Entity just shrugged. 

“The reason, I don’t care about it, what I know is that you died with that hope in your heart, that you spent every second here thinking, hoping, Dean would still remember you. You’re so stupid you even thought he’d do something to rescue you. So cute and naive,” it circled around him, touching his body, pulling on the already too tense ropes, “Dean forgot about you the moment he saw his brother. He never cared, Castiel. Actually, I think he was even a little disgusted by your confession, come on, an angel, the one he called family and friend wanting to get his paws on him?” the entity tutted, shaking his head, “not nice if you get my clue.” 

Castiel opened his mouth a little, to reply, to yell that it wasn’t true, that he knew what both brothers felt for him, that they were a family and that Dean didn’t hate him, didn’t feel disgust or pity, but he closed it back without a sound. It was useless, he was under torture and to answer was only going to make the shadow’s game, so he just smiled a little and shook his head. 

“I admit your faith in that man is pretty strong, but I’m sure soon you won’t even be able to feel it, shall we start the game?” and before Castiel could think about the meaning of those words the tendrils around his arms started to pull towards the opposite sides, stretching him more and more. He groaned loudly, but when it started to also squeeze his insides, he screamed. And screamed. 

_Brothers, if you are there give me the force_


End file.
